My name is Michelle and I’ve been missing for three weeks.
Oh, hello. Um. I missed you guys? I was soaking up having the kids around, Dave, Christmas, my best friend, extended family and just taking a vacation. I just hadn’t intended it to be an extended vacation, but there it is. Extended. BAM.
There is this whole blogging thing that it’s a little like fight club. You’re not supposed to talk about blogging in and of itself unless of course your blog is about blogging, then you’re supposed to ONLY talk about blogging. But I’m not really a rules kind of girl except in the car lane at school because non-rules followers in the car lane make me irate. There is parking all over and willy nilly dropping off and obnoxious assholes who turn left when there is clearly a sign saying not to turn left.
But here on the blog? Eh. Left turn away, suckas.
Blogging is incredible. It has afforded me all kinds of opportunities like having my stuff on Queen Latifah’s site, trips across the country, getting mentioned by people like the food editor of the Associated Press, being featured on Life Hacker, working with some fantastic companies, getting courted by Huffington Post, and meeting some of the best people in the universe, some of which I now call friends. It’s flattering, it’s awesome, and it makes me all glowy, but for me, having all of you to talk to every day, that’s where it’s at. Your comments keep me laughing, your emails make me all choked up, and your stories are as varied as Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. I like it. Blogging, that is, and you too. But, it is a fuckton of work and sometimes I very much need a break to sit around mostly camera-less and just take a mental picture instead.
Only… to take a break or a vacation as a blogger, you’re supposed to work four times as hard and schedule out posts to appear like you’re there. This is the part we’re not supposed to mention because it’s supposed to be this magical thing where *** poof! *** pretty things appear, you actually sleep while simultaneously making yourself available to social media 24/7 and the words flow like Natty Light at the college party Dave once took me to when I was 26 years old.
Note to any college age boys out there: if you are lucky enough to date a woman 3 years older than you, with a job, an apartment and clearly fabulous, you should probably not take her to any keg-ers. You might end up with a wife.
Then of course after your extended break, there is just this awkward figuring out what to say to rejoin the land of the living. And yaaaaaawn, do I really need to get out of bed? Plus, you know that people don’t want to hear that you’ve been sitting around playing with your kids with their elflocked hair and staying in your pajamas until afternoon while drinking all the coffee in the universe and snuggling with your husband. There was also some Harry Potter reading, much Lego building, My Little Pony Equestria Girls watching, and figuring out to do with all of this snow.
So here I am in a graceless sort of way, hoping you’re still reading, still in my pajamas, day three of being house-bound, day eighteen of school break, and hating pfeffernüsse. Mostly because Dave loves it and eats it non-stop for weeks around Christmas and also partly because it has an umlat which makes writing pfeffernüsse a pain in the ass. I’d promise that next time I’ll be better and schedule out those posts so we can all pretend that I’m here, but you and I both know, I probably won’t.
I hope you’re ok with that.
Just how cold is it in your neck of the woods?